


break a man

by soulshrapnel



Series: Villainous Kinktober fills 2020 [25]
Category: Star Wars Legends: X-Wing Series - Aaron Allston & Michael Stackpole
Genre: Captive, F/M, Gunplay, drugged, lusyanka
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-25
Updated: 2020-10-25
Packaged: 2021-03-09 05:41:22
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,034
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27198647
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/soulshrapnel/pseuds/soulshrapnel
Summary: Ysanne Isard's usual brainwashing techniques haven't worked on Corran Horn. But she's got another idea.(Kinktober, Day 25: Gunplay)
Relationships: Corran Horn/Ysanne Isard
Series: Villainous Kinktober fills 2020 [25]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1947379
Comments: 2
Kudos: 8
Collections: Kinktober 2020





	break a man

**Author's Note:**

  * For [13th_blackbird](https://archiveofourown.org/users/13th_blackbird/gifts).



> Same multi-prompt as Day 24 - we used the other requested ship and the other requested kink yesterday, so then Iceheart/Corran Horn and gunplay are somehow what was left. (And I was like, "I don't know who that is." And the prompter was like "Oh no worries, I knew it was a long shot, they're from the X-Wing books, I just figured if you like Natasi Daala you'll probably like Iceheart too." And I looked in the Wookieepedia and I was like "...Shit, you're right.")
> 
> ANYWAY this one's depraved and I'm embarrassed about it for all sorts of reasons, but here you go. If you don't like it then I promise the Thranto one a few days from now will be HAPPY AND NICE. :P

Corran was floating - not in a good way. He was lying on something hard and cold, and the rest of the world was a haze that made no sense to his eyes. He might have been spinning, or maybe lurching - he kept changing his mind about that. He couldn't remember where he was, or why, or even who exactly he was, beyond the name. But he had a feeling it had been like this for a long time, and for even worse reasons than he knew.

In the haze somewhere above him, there was a woman's face.

She looked at him with a keen, clinical interest. She wore an orange uniform. Her hair hung down, black with white stripes, maybe white with black stripes - he couldn't focus enough to tell. She had one blue eye and one red one. Corran blinked, trying to figure out if he'd seen that right. Since when did people have red eyes?

She had a hand on his chest.

"You've resisted pain," she said, as offhand as if she was discussing dinner plans. "You've resisted simple chemical trickery, so far. Your will is relatively impressive, as these things go."

"Maybe you just suck at this," Corran supplied, pretending bravado.

"But," she said, ignoring him, "there are other ways to break a man."

He didn't know where he was, or who she was, or what she was trying to get him to do. He didn't know how long he'd been here. Maybe they'd had this conversation over and over again, and she was the only one who remembered it, every time.

There was a sort of clicking noise - it sounded familiar, but he couldn't place it. He didn't remember that was what unholstering a blaster sounded like - not until he saw the blaster itself, pointed at his face, the muzzle an inch from his mouth.

He stifled a laugh, and immediately wished he hadn't. He felt pretty sick, actually.

"Lick this," she said.

Corran gave an ungainly snort. "What, why do you think I'd-"

But he shouldn't have opened his mouth at all. She pushed the blaster's narrow muzzle past his lips, forced it between his teeth to press against his tongue. He'd been about to protest that this wouldn't work, that he'd let her shoot him before he'd degrade himself this way, but the tip of the blaster pressed down into him and he _felt_ his tongue move against it, reflexively, trying to push it back out.

The woman savored that small victory for a moment, and then she pulled the blaster back out. She kept it trained on him, not far from his face, as she moved to unbutton his flimsy prison shirt.

"All you need to do," she said, "is recognize that you will do what I want you to do. Regardless of your own will. It's inevitable."

He took a moment to work out exactly what she meant. It didn't hit him until she'd gotten halfway down with the buttons. These drugs, or whatever it was, they were making him _slow._

When he did work it out, he laughed aloud. It came out as a horrible, hacking wheeze.

"Can't get any unless you drug a man _and_ keep him at gunpoint, huh?" He wasn't going to let her see him afraid. Besides, this was ridiculous. He didn't want to be afraid of it. He didn't want his stomach to clench against the very idea of it, the way it was doing now. "Maybe you should try smiling more."

She shook her head. "That kind of line won't work on me."

Corran tried to raise a hand to push her away. It would be a feeble effort, she'd probably just push him back down, she might shoot him, but it was better than lying there doing nothing. His arm wouldn't move, though - his wrist was caught in something hard and cold. Why hadn't he noticed the restraints until now? He must be sicker than he thought.

A useless fact bubbled up from his memory: this woman was called _Iceheart._ Not her real name, obviously, just what people called her. She was famously cruel, even by Imperial standards. He wouldn't get anywhere by appealing to any sense of pity or shame.

The woman got to the end of his shirt and tugged it open. She considered at his bare chest. Corran couldn't crane his neck enough to see himself; maybe he was as strong as he remembered. Maybe he'd withered, after however long it was that he'd been trapped in here. Maybe he had injuries he didn't even know about. He couldn't tell.

Iceheart scratched a line down his chest with her short nails.

It didn't hurt, not badly enough for Corran to bother calling it pain. He didn't think she'd intended it to hurt. But she raked her fingers up and down him in precise patterns, probably leaving a mark, and to his own horror he felt his body responding. It didn't feel good at all, not even in the way of a guilty pleasure or an awful temptation. It just _was_ \- his cock picking itself up in his trousers as if it wasn't part of him, some alien thing that had gotten under his skin, straining to get out. Maybe that was the drugs.

"You see?" she said, her hand roving lower. She stroked his growing erection through the fabric, absently, like it was a pet animal. "No matter what you try to do, you'll end up obeying."

Corran swallowed hard, stifling a noise. It would have been something like a whimper. He didn't want that.

Iceheart shifted her blaster so that that the muzzle was now just in front of his eye. He could see down it, a long hole like a pit, scoured with spiral rifling. At the very end of it, something glowed. Corran felt like he was falling, spinning as he fell, but he couldn't seem to fall far enough for the blaster to go away.

"But the gun," she added offhand, "is just because I like guns."

Corran squeezed his eyes shut as she climbed up onto the table with him. He focused on nothing, and he fell, and he fell.

**Author's Note:**

> would you believe that, at the beginning of kinktober, i didn't think i was going to write any noncon? and now i've written like five of them? yeah? yeah. *stares at fics*


End file.
